


half doomed and you're semi-sweet

by ohmcgee



Series: Peter/Tony One-Shots [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 11:17:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14567880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmcgee/pseuds/ohmcgee
Summary: “Peter,” Tony says, his tone flat, and Peter shudders.“Peter,” Tony says again, impatient and with a hint of threat. “I’m waiting.”





	half doomed and you're semi-sweet

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: you make me want to do things I shouldn't

“Mr. Stark,” Peter says softly, coyly, but with an edge of impatience in his tone. “Is this good? Am I -- am I doing it right?”

“Mm,” Tony says, still dressed all the way up to the silk tie around his neck. He has one leg crossed over the other, sitting in the armchair in the corner of the room as he sips bourbon from a glass. “Close. Slow down a bit.”

Peter bites into his lip to keep down the groan that wants to come out.  _ Slower? _ He’s been touching himself for what feels like hours while Tony just sits there comfortably, like he’s got all the time in the world.

“Peter.”

Peter’s cock twitches in his hand. There’s something about the way Tony can fit so much disappointment and disapproval into a single word that makes him harder than anything.Peter passes his thumb over the slick head of his cock and it spurts with a generous amount of precome, his back arching reflexively as a moan spills from his lips. “I’m not real sure that’s possible, Mr. Stark.”

Tony chuckles and swirls the bourbon around in his glass before throwing the rest of it back. “Come on, where’s that can-do spirit? I need another drink, but please. Continue.”

Peter continues his slow, torturous strokes as he hears the clinking of ice across the room. He doesn’t know exactly how long he’s been lying here touching himself while Tony looks on as if he’s been more interested in watching paint dry, but it feels like hours. Peter’s pretty sure his dick has never been this hard before and there’s a sticky mess on his stomach from how much precome he’s been leaking. He’s gotten close to the edge twice, only for Tony to clear his throat at him and shake his head. Once, he’d almost not been able to stop it and the adrenaline and fear of disappointing Tony had made him fucking dizzy.

Peter relaxes his grip to a loose circle and closes his eyes, sighing at how good even that feels, just the barely there slide of his dick slipping between the ring his thumb and forefinger makes. When he opens his eyes again, his dick jerks in his hand; Tony’s standing right over him.

It had taken Peter ages just to get Tony to agree to something like this, just watching from a safe distance. He’d fought it for months, fought it even though Peter  _ knew _ how much he wanted him. He knew Tony wanted to touch him just as much as Peter wanted to get on his knees and fill his mouth with him, but baby steps would have to do for now. Seeing Tony this close though, while Peter was stripped bare, his cock still leaking everywhere -- this was new. Tony had never gotten this close before.

“Mr. Stark?” He asks, but Tony just shakes his head, unsureness tugging at his features and emphasizing the lines in the corners of his eyes.

“Hm,” Tony hums, like he’s still sort of processing what he’s doing, then takes another sip of his drink. “I think...faster.”

“Yeah?” Peter asks, not needing to be told twice. His picks his pace up immediately, moving his hips a little into it, not taking his eyes off of Tony.

“Yeah,” Tony says.

Peter strokes himself the way he would if he was in his bed at home, thinking about Tony standing over him just like this, and Tony just  _ watches,  _ his gaze more intense than it had been earlier, as if he had crossed the invisible line that he’d laid out between them and everything had changed.

“Is that how you do it?” Tony asks, gesturing toward him. “When I’m not watching? I want to know exactly how you do it.”

“It ---”

“And what you think about it.”

“Oh,” Peter gasps and squeezes the base of his cock as his hips jerk forward. He's not coming yet, but Tony’s words shoot straight through him, like lightning. Like the hottest thing Peter has ever fucking heard.

“I thought that was,” Peter swallows back a moan, “pretty obvious.”

“Pretend I’m not a genius,” Tony smirks and  _ god _ , how many times has Peter thought about that fucking smirk? How many times has he gotten inappropriately hard in the middle of a fight because Tony had flashed it at him? “Walk me through it.”

“God,” Peter moans. “I…”

Instead of answering him, Peter pulls his bottom lip through his teeth and feels his cheeks go hot. He doesn't know why this is tripping him up. He’s been moaning and writhing and touching himself for the last god- knew-how-long while Tony Stark watched, but  _ now _ he was getting shy? It didn’t really make sense. Still, each time he tries to open his mouth to speak, Peter's cheeks flare with heat and he feels so self-conscious he has to close his eyes.

“Peter,” Tony says, his tone flat, and Peter shudders.

“Peter,” Tony says again, impatient and with a hint of threat. “I’m waiting.”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter chews on his bottom lip again, eyes still shut. “I can’t --”

“Mm-mm, can’t never could,” Tony hums and Peter can just hear that stupid smirk in his tone. “Come on. Start slow. Just tell me...who. Who do you think about when you’re touching yourself? ”

“You know --”

“Mr. Parker,” Tony says, disapproval dripping from the words, and it makes Peter’s chest and cock ache in equal measure.

“You,” Peter blurts out. “I think about you, Mr. Stark.”

“Very good,” Tony says praisingly and Peter thinks he blushes from head to toe. “And what is it you think about me? ”

Peter’s cheeks and the tips of his ears  _ burn.  _ The images of hundreds of fantasies he’d had about Tony Stark all flash behind his eyes at once, each one more depraved and humiliating than the next. There’s no way he can tell Mr. Stark about the things he thinks about, the things he  _ wants _ . He’d never be able to look at him the same. He’d probably never even want to see him again, period. There has to be something else he can do, some other way he can make Mr. Stark ---

“Huh,” Tony says, reaching down and skimming the back of his knuckles down Peter’s thigh. “And here I thought you wanted to make me happy.”

Peter started to shake. “I do,” he says, bottom lip trembling. “I do, Mr. Stark. Please --”

“Please, what?”

“Please don't --” Peter starts. He knows how childish he sounds, knows that the feeling bubbling up is a sob, but he’s helpless to stop it. Tony doesn't understand. He  _ does _ want to make him happy. That's all he wants. He just wants to be good for him.

“Oh,” Tony says, though it's a groan more than it is a word, low and growly, and Peter suddenly realizes that he said most, if not all of that, outloud. “That's good. That's...very good.”

Peter blinks up at him through wet, matted eyelashes and the look on Tony’s face is indescribable.

“Peter,” Tony breathes out his name like a plea as he strokes the sharp jut of Peter's hip with his thumb. “I'm gonna need you to make yourself come for me now.”

“Fuck,” Peter let's out shakily and wraps his hand back around his dick and starts stroking himself, biting his lip as that familiar heat coils tighter and tighter in his belly. Tony never takes his eyes off of him and he doesn't back off either, which Peter is immensely grateful for. He’s hyperfocused on the brush of Tony’s thumb across his hip, each nerve ending  _ singing  _ and sending bursts of pleasure all over his body. He's getting close, closer than Tony’s let him get tonight, his whole body going almost completely weightless as he gives himself over to the intensity of his pleasure.

“You,” Tony murmurs above him, sliding his fingers down Peter’s hip to the inside of his thigh. “You make me want to do very, very bad things. Do you know that?”

“Please,” Peter begs without knowing what for. No, that's not true. He knows exactly what he's asking for: everything.

“You make me,” Tony continues, murmuring soft and low, as if he doesn't even intend for Peter to hear him, his fingers slipping lower down Peter's thigh, “want to do things I shouldn't.”

Peter’s entire body jerks when feels one of Tony's fingers brush his hole. “Yes, yes,  _ please,”  _ Peter cries out. “Please, Mr. Stark. I need --- I need it.”

Tony looks at him, hot and dark, then brings his fingers up to Peter’s mouth. "Suck.”

Peter obeys immediately, sucking Tony’s fingers down, laving his tongue between them, until Tony curses under his breath and pulls them out of his mouth.

Tony immediately puts his hand back between Peter’s thighs and rubs the pad of his slick finger around Peter’s rim. "Is this what you need?”

Peter’s answer is a cry of ecstasy as Tony slips his finger inside of him, crawling on the bed to hover over Peter as he fucks him with it. He's still fully dressed and the cuff of his suit jacket is almost painful as it rubs against Peter's hypersensitive skin. Tony adds another fingers along with the first and Peter feels like he's almost having an out of body experience. This, this is what he thinks about at night when he's touching himself. He thinks about Mr. Stark filling him up, giving him what he needs. Taking care of him.

“Peter,” Tony says. “Look at me.”

Peter hadn't realized he'd closed his eyes again. Everything had just been so overwhelming that he'd had to shut one of his senses out for a moment. But as soon as he opens them again everything comes rushing back, like sensory overload.

“Good boy,” Tony murmurs and without warning, Peter’s back arches off the bed, his mouth falling open on a silent scream as his body clenches around Tony’s fingers and his cock jerks, shooting a stream of come up to his chin.

Peter’s been waiting so long to come that it almost feels anticlimactic, but then he realizes Tony’s not done. He fucks Peter through the aftershocks of his orgasm, looking down to watch his fingers slip in and out of Peter's hole, until Peter feels a new feeling start to build. 

Tony’s got his fingers even deeper inside of Peter now, twisting and curling them, and when he presses them against  _ that  _ spot, a pleasure so intense it's almost painful explodes inside of Peter. He screams as his cock twitches against his stomach and even though he had just come, he seems to be coming again and again, Tony covering his mouth as he milks every last drop out of him.

Peter is so wrung out after that that he’s only vaguely aware of Tony scooping him up and holding him in his lap, of Tony’s fingers threading through his hair and his lips on his collarbone.

“Did I,” Peter starts sleepily, pausing to wet his mouth as he lays his head on Tony’s shoulder. “Did I do good, Mr. Stark?”

“Mmm,” Tony hums next to his ear, rubbing soothing circles on Peter’s back. “You were perfect.”

 


End file.
